


A Past in Portrait

by hollowlife



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Family Secrets, Ichabod History, Museum Visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowlife/pseuds/hollowlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie takes Ichabod to the local museum for a relaxing afternoon.</p><p>A small discovery shakes Ichabod's world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Past in Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> A Past in Portrait.
> 
> Abbie and Ichabod discover some unnerving truths after a trip to the local museum.  
> 

**A Past in Portrait.**

"Are you sure you are not going to complain?"

"Miss Mills, I promise I will behave myself.'

"I'm serious Crane. I mean, this is a museum. The people who set up the exhibits have studied this stuff for ages. I don't think they will appreciate some crazy guy off the street telling them they got something wrong."

"I will endeavour to remain silent on the topic."

"Good."

Abbie Mills and Ichabod Crane headed up the steps to the entrance. She had already purchased tickets online, in hopes of preventing Ichabod from ranting about the ten dollar admission charge. The museum exhibits were a nice mix. Dinosaurs, Prehistoric man, modern technology, geology, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Mesopotamia, and 17th and 18th century Europe and North America.

Abbie thought it would be a perfect place to take Ichabod for the day. It was a Sunday in October and the weather was cold and rainy - perfect museum weather.

Entering the vast atrium, Abbie headed for the map to scope out where the 18th century artifacts were located, Ichabod following close by. Abbie studied the map, while Ichabod studied the images to the side.

"What on earth is that monstrosity?" He pointed to a picture of a vicious looking massive lizard-like creature that indicated the dinosaur section.

"That's a dinosaur. T-rex. Specifically a Tyrannosaurus Rex. They were huge lizard-like animals that roamed the earth millions of years ago. Then they suddenly went extinct."

"Millions of years ago? You cannot be serious."

"I'm serious. It was way before humans stopped swinging from the trees."

"Are you saying we are descended from...monkeys?"

"Kinda. We evolved into what we are now, over millions of years." Abbie watched his face, could see that he was trying to process this information into something meaningful and logical. "It's complicated. Honestly, Crane, there is so much you need to read up on, on all of the discoveries that came after your time."

"Indeed."

"I'll get you to read up on it, then we'll come back here and go through the exhibits."

"That would be an excellent idea, I think." Ichabod was still staring at the picture of the T-Rex, almost shaking his head in disbelief.

Abbie smiled. "Are you sure you want to check out the 18th century exhibit?"

"I do. I am curious as to how the modern world thinks it should view my time." His polished snark was perfect.

The exhibit was located on the 2nd level and surprising to Abbie, was quite large, taking up most of the floor. It was a detailed mix of clothing, furniture, military weapon and wear, instruments and devices used during that time.

Abbie was a bit worried about how Ichabod would react. Would he find comfort in seeing artifacts that he was familiar with, or would it just reinforce what he had lost?

Abbie needn't have worried. It seemed that Ichabod was enjoying himself, every once in a while clarifying something or explaining something to Abbie, whenever she had a question or observation.

She smiled to herself as Ichabod explained in some detail about how to load one of the powder pistols they came upon. Abbie was quite enjoying herself, and surprisingly to her, actually enjoyed Ichabod explaining the many intricacies of 18th century life to her.  
He was completely in his element. She could totally see the teacher in him now. The Revolutionary War soldier was now geeking out over a pair of oil lamps and a powder shot gun.

They moved into the clothing section, and Abbie had to admit that she was blown away by the complexity of the dresses and corsets and petticoats that woman seemed required to wear. Abbie started reading about the corsets, or stays that woman wore, and shook her head in disbelief.

"How on earth did women wear those things?"

Ichabod laughed. "I am not sure, to be quite honest."

"No thanks. If I was in that time, the _stays_ would stay in the closet."

"Ah, but Miss Mills. A lady must ensure her modesty at all times. A lady who does not don her stays in public would be considered a harlot or a loose woman."

"Yeah well, I'd rather be a loose woman, then have to wear those things."

"Would you now?" Ichabod raised his eyebrow, his eyes twinkling.

Abbie punched his arm lightly. "I would. And how did you people manage in the heat? Like seriously?"

Ichabod contemplated this. "I don't quite know. We just did."

Abbie wandering into the next room, leaving Ichabod fawning over military weapons, and observed that it was filled with paintings. It was mostly portraits. Some individual, some family. A couple depicted battle scenes.

She slowly moved from painting to painting, reading the plaques that named each individual and also included a bit of background concerning the scene.

She came up to a larger painting of a family hanging in the middle of the room. A father, mother, three girls and a young man, all standing in a row in front of a large pane glass window, with a beautiful garden landscape visible on the other side. The large canvas was about three feet by four feet long and very vibrant.

The artist was very talented, Abbie thought, since the painting itself looked almost like a photograph. The individuals portrayed in the painting looked as though they could just step out into the real world, it was that realistic. Abbie noted the tall figure standing at the right. He looked really familiar. Like, really really familiar.

She read the plaque on the wall.

"Oh. My. God...." 

She moved closer to the painting, squinting her eyes to take in the detail. It was him. It was so him.

Abbie rushed back to the military section, to find Ichabod admiring an intricately carved sword.

"Look at this, Miss Mills. The craftsmanship of this sword is exquisite."

"Crane, take off your coat."

"Pardon?"

"Take off your coat.' she demanded. Ichabod slipped the coat from his shoulders, only to have Abbie snatch it from his hands. She folded the jacket inside out, so that the lining was exposed outward, hiding the copper buttons and antiquated embellishments within. "Here, make sure you hold it closed like this." she commanded.

Thank god Abbie had forced Ichabod to dress more modern for today. He was wearing a grey button down shirt and black khaki pants, a pair of black leather 8-hole boots on his feet. He had insisted on his coat of course, but at least he wouldn't look like he had stepped out from one of the museum displays.

She now grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the painting. "Crane, oh my god, you've got to see this."

She dragged him to the painting and motioned for him to read the description.

Ichabod took a look at the plaque, up at the painting, then back down to the words on the wall. His mouth dropped open.

Abbie put her hand over her own mouth, knowing full well what he was reading.

 _(l. to r.) Lord and Lady Neville Thomas Crane . Daughters Mary, Cecelia and Elizabeth. Son Ichabod . Harrington mansion. Parlour. Oxford England. c. 1766._

Abbie watched as Ichabod slowly raised his head to study the canvas again.

"My word..." he whisper under his breath.

"That's you, isn't it? It looks just like you."

"Yes. Yes Miss Mills. That is me. How did...how did the museum come to acquire this?"

Abbie could see that Ichabod was stunned.

She was absolutely floored.

"Do you remember sitting for this?" she asked.

He took a moment to respond, still gaping. "I do. I remember standing for two hours whilst the artist worked. It was very tedious, but my father demanded that we suffer in silence for art."

"How old were you?"

"I was barely 18 years old when this was painted."

"What the hell is that on your face?" she asked as she moved closer to study Crane's image. She was now grinning at him."Were you trying to grow a goatee?" The eighteen year old Crane had a light growth of hair over his lip and on his chin. The facial hair was reddish in colour, but was definitely visible.

"Uh no. It was called a Van Dyke. But I was attempting this, yes."

"It looks good on you."

Ichabod smiled at Abbie. "Thank you. However, I found that a full beard was much easier to maintain. Especially during the war."

"I see that you two are finding this painting quite fascinating?" A voice interrupted their conversation." Ichabod and Abbie turned around to see a middle aged lady smiling behind them.

"Oh yeah, we do." Abbie glanced at the badge pinned to the front of the woman's cream silk blouse. She was a museum employee. The lady held out her hand and introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Helen. Assistant curator for the museum's 18th century exhibits."

Abbie shook Helen's hand, willing her mind to work fast. "Hi Helen. Uh, I'm Abbie and this is my - _boyfriend_ \- Michael." Abbie now grabbed Ichabod's hand and squeezed his fingers tight. Ichabod opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it, letting Abbie continue.

"I was here with my sister Jenny a few weeks ago, saw this painting and had to bring, uh, Mike here to see this." Abbie said cheerfully, hoping that Ichabod would play along. She addressed him directly, "I mean, c'mon honey, _it looks just like you."_

Ichabod made to study the painting again for a moment. "I think you are correct, _sweetheart_ . That young man does look very much like me. My dearest." Ichabod's pressed his lips together tightly. She could tell he was trying to hide back his smirk.

Helen now looked Ichabod over, then took a closer look at the canvas. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I saw you two admiring this painting, and Michael seemed so familiar to me. Now I know why! My god, the resemblance is uncanny."

Abbie watching as Ichabod tightened his hands around the coat draped over his arm. She was worried about how Ichabod was feeling or what he was thinking, but curiosity got the better of her.

"Helen, do you know anything about this painting? About the young guy who looks like Mike here?" Abbie asked, glancing over at Ichabod, who was now chewing his lower lip.

"Why yes, yes I do." Helen seemed to get excited. "I have to confess, I've made it a personal project to find out as much information as I can about the people in these paintings. All of the subjects in this room are not well-known individuals. There is no Napoleon or Horatio Nelson or FDR or anyone conventionally famous in our historical record. These are all people that most of us don't know anything about."

Abbie could see Ichabod's eyebrow quirk a little, but he remained silent, while Helen continued. 

"But like I said, I have done extensive research on most of the people featured in this room. But this one" she pointed ahead, "is actually my favorite and the most interesting to me. Especially him."

"Might you...tell us about..him?" Ichabod asked, his head shaking a bit over the oddness of asking someone to tell him about himself. "What intrigued you about this canvas?"

"Oh well, the painting itself caught my eye originally. There was something very different about this one, compared to others of its kind. Then the name of that young man. Very strange name actually. Ichabod was the first name of that boy. Ichabod Crane."

"Ichabod? Wow, that's an really weird name." Abbie commented, then caught Ichabod shooting her daggers out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes it is. Very unusual, even for that time period. It is a name found in the Bible, and in Hebrew, Ichabod means inglorious. It is a very strange name to give the firstborn son of a family, since most families focused on honour and chivalry. To name your son something that essentially meant no glory was off. It seemed almost a slight against his own son. But then after I researched a bit more, it made sense, as he was illegitimate."

"He was what now?" Abbie said, as she glanced quickly over to Ichabod, whose forehead narrowed. She could see tight wrinkles forming between his brow.

"How can you be certain?" He asked. Abbie had to gave him credit, his tone was pleasant neutral.

"Well, I'm not 100% certain, but the signs are there. See, look at the painting. See the rest of the family. They are all average height or smaller. Most people of this time were quite short. The father I think was maybe five foot six. The mother five foot two or so. All of the daughters are about the same height as Lady Crane. But look at Ichabod. He towers over them. He's a good foot or so taller than the rest. I would estimate...." Helen trailed off, looking up at Ichabod's six foot plus frame, "well he was more like your height, actually." She smiled kindly at Ichabod.

 _You have no idea_ , Abbie thought.

"And look at his eyes? You see how they are very blue? In fact, the artist had used a vibrant azure colour to highlight Ichabod's eyes. They are quite striking, actually. Now look at the eyes of the rest of the family."

Abbie did as told, then realized, "They all have brown eyes."

"Yup. We know that brown eyes are dominant. Both parents had brown eyes. I think that the mother carried genes for blue eyes, and whoever the father was had blue eyes. That and the height tells me that he is mostly likely illegitimate."

Abbie looked at Ichabod, who was clearly trying to digest this revelation. She wasn't sure if he completely understood what Helen had said. Gene theory was something that Abbie knew that Ichabod has no idea about. It was one of those subjects she hadn't gotten around to explaining to him. She could see that he was trying to understand this anyway, as his hand was pulling hard at his bottom lip and chin.

"That, and apparently his sister Elizabeth commented on the house butler being very tall and blue-eyed in her journals."

"You're saying the butler did it?" Abbie said, half joking, half serious.

Helen smiled brightly as she nodded, her glee at being able to share this information making her almost giddy.

"You....you have Elizabeth's journals?" Ichabod asked hesitantly.

"Oh dear, yes! Give me a second, let me show you, if you have the time."

"We have the time." Abbie replied quickly.

Helen rushed off down the hallway.

Abbie now looked at Ichabod, who seemed a bit shell-shocked.

"Are you okay?" she asked, lightly touching his arm.

Ichabod took a deep breath. "Well, it is not everyday you find out you are...illegitimate."

"You never suspected?"

"No. Not really. I mean, Elizabeth would jest with me, that Mr. Carver - he was the butler - was related to me. I just...I never really pondered this. But he was quite tall, quite lanky and did have very blue eyes." he ran his free hand over his face. "It does...does make sense. I guess my mother was more busy then she seemed."

Abbie gave him a sad smile. "Are you going to be able to handle this? You gonna be okay?" her hand gave Ichabod's arm reassuring squeeze. "It's a lot to take in."

"I...I guess I would rather know the truth. This is just something..."

"This is something messed up."

Ichabod now returned her smile in spite of himself. He spotted Helen coming back down the hallway, a book in her hand. He took a deep breath."Well, let us see what else we can learn about the good, young Ichabod Crane."

Helen reappeared now at their side, a large book in hand with a cloth mark hanging out the side.

"I hope that I am not sounding like I am bragging, but this is a book that I published a few years ago concerning the history of these paintings." She flipped the book open at the bookmark and held it out for Abbie and Ichabod to see. " This is the only other portrait of Ichabod that I could find in my years of research."

Abbie stared down at the image and smiled. Staring back at her, again a painting so realistic that is was like a camera photo, was a young Ichabod. 

She was doing her damnedest to try and hide her massive grin. "He looks so young and so adorable!"

Abbie locked eyes with the real Ichabod, who just shrugged his shoulders, almost like saying _"Yeah, that's me. Whatever."_

Abbie studied the image. It was a close-up of Ichabod's head and shoulders, with just some highlights of a window and luxurious curtains behind him. He was facing forward but at an angle, as thought he were looking to the left. His hair was short, hair slightly curling around his ears, face fuller and he was clean shaven, but there was no denying his prominent features. There was no mistaking that this was Ichabod Crane.

 _Holy shit,_ Abbie thought, _I'm looking at a teenage Crane. With short hair and no beard!_

"How old do you think he was here?" Abbie asked Helen.

"I would say fifteen, maybe sixteen the most." 

Abbie glanced at Ichabod, who mouthed sixteen, making Abbie smile in delight. She continued studying the image, giddy over how sweet and young her witness partner looked. Then she noticed his eyes, at how vibrant blue they were. They were painted almost a bright sapphire.

"The, uh, painter really liked the blue eyes, didn't he?" she commented.

"Yes, actually. That is what I love about this portrait. Once again, the artist highlighted Ichabod's striking eyes. He really did have beautiful eyes. I don't know what it is, but they do seem to pierce your soul, they are so alive."

Abbie locked her own eyes with the real Ichabod and grinned. "Yeah, he does - did - have gorgeous eyes. Very soul piercing." She swore he blushed a little. He had to find this weird though, Abbie thought. The two of them speaking about him in the third person. 

"Helen, may I inquire where and when you obtained this painting?" Ichabod asked.

"At an auction in London. It was about fifteen years ago, I was visiting and on a whim, decided to attend an auction in Leeds. They had several paintings, but this one blew me away. Like I said, Ichabod standing out so much from his family, and more importantly...." she trailed off, now flipping a few pages ahead, "it came with a few journal entries from his sister Elizabeth."

"May we see the journal entries..." Ichabod spoke, his voice barely above a restrained whisper. 

Helen smiled, "Oh my, yes! Elizabeth's journals! I already mentioned that. Oh dear. The auction included only a handful of pages. Most of the journal had been destroyed by time and improper storage. But about ten pages had been preserved and were included with the painting."

She held out the book so that Abbie and Ichabod could see the scanned images of the handwritten letters. "This page has my favourite entry. From what I can gather, Ichabod and his eldest sister were very close. Elizabeth was first born, Ichabod one year behind. They seemed devoted to each other." Helen flipped ahead another page.

She held out the page for Abbie and Ichabod to read. "Text is here, since the handwriting is a bit hard to read." 

Abbie knew that Ichabod would have no such problem.

__

_21st June._  
 _My dear brother continues to vex father and had taken pleasure in its effect. Unfortunately, he refuses to mind my advice to desist. I should like to thrash him, but he has presented me with the most wonderous gift that I cannot be cross with him._  
 _Ichabod, mischievous as a lesser daemon, had taken to stealing into my rooms when I am distracted and away. It has taken him five days and five nights, but he has managed to complete his wicked task. The clothing chest is of thick oak and has many drawers. The sneak had taken it upon himself to carve a small niche upon the bottom of the chest, hidden by one of the drawers. Ichabod revealed his little secret four days ago - A hidden area!. He told me to check this every eve and morn and I have. Heavens! One morning, I woke to find two wonderous gifts! The Divine Comedy and Canterbury Tales. Yesterday eve, Hamlet and a small third of brandy! Ichabod, you fool, what would father say if he found out! He would surely box you by the ears._  
 _I have not told Cecelia nor Mary - I fear they would run to mother immediately._  
 _I shall feign a malady today and devour these exquisite words!_

"Oh my god..." Abbie awed, "that is the sweetest thing ever!" Abbie once again took Ichabod's hand in hers. He had a small sad smile on her face too, reflecting on what he had done.

"It is, isn't it?" Helen answered. "You have to understand, woman were thought to be too delicate and weak to be able to read most of the literature that was available at that time. To allow a woman to read a book typically reserved for males, to read more serious books, might cause a woman to faint, to lose her femininity. His gifts to his sister was very sweet indeed and very respectful. He was giving her a gift that society would never allow for her."

Abbie looked at Ichabod with immense admiration. He himself seemed actually a bit embarrassed.

Abbie moved to read the next letter, only partially intact.

_.....father could not comprehend why I am so mournful. With a dire tone, he has threatened to evacuate me from the house. Mother was in hysterics. She could not understand why I should be so morose. Lord Willingham is a good man, she tells me. He will make a wonderful husband. He comes from wealth and I would have no want._  
 _I do not wish to marry him, no more than I wish to marry at all. I have confessed this to no one._  
 _But Ichabod knows. He knows what causes me such pain. Such distress. Mary is worried for him, but mother and father do not seem to have concern. He is becoming more restless by the day, addled even, his mind not calm nor satisfied. Cecelia fears it is a fever, but I know better._  
 _There are murmurings of conflict in the Americas and I fear that Ichabod will elect to join the fight. I pray that he does not, but his mind is quite stubborn and unwilling to bend. My dear brother, what must I do to quell your misery! Do you not see that we need you here and now?_  
 _I will retire now, allowing the wonder of Shakespeare and his magnificent prose to salve my soul and lull me to sleep and sweet dreams._

The third letter on the page was also partial and only a few sentences.

_...I do not have energy to write but I shall try. The good Doctor Benson has labeled me consumptive and ordered me for bed rest. Mary has applied healing poultices as remedy but they did not suffice. Mother demanded that I be bled again, for surely my humours are unbalanced._  
 _Father is away and Ichabod has angrily refused. He has spent the latter part of the morn stomping through the hallways muttering that this treatment is a fallacy._  
 _He is right. I feel weaker at every lost drop._  
 _I must sleep. I am too tired..._

Helen gently lowered the book now, her face sad. "Elizabeth died a few days later from consumption, or what we know now as tuberculosis."

"That's terrible." Abbie whispered. She looked over to see that Ichabod was standing in front of the painting again, studying Elizabeth's form intensely. She didn't want to read any more of the letters right now.

"Helen? I know this is a big favour to ask, but is there any chance I can get some good photocopies of all of the information on Ichabod. The letters too?"

"Absolutely. I would offer to lend the book, but this is my only copy. You understand."

Abbie smiled kindly. "Do you know what happened after...after all of this?"

"Very little. Ichabod disappeared from the radar, so to speak. There was no mention of him until about five years later. He had apparently gone to the American colonies and joined in the war, just as Elizabeth feared. He obviously was a Redcoat, fighting for the British, but something made him change his mind and he ended up fighting for the American Colonists. 37th regiment, I believe. He died on the battlefield. Apparently an axe blade right into the heart."

Abbie cleared her throat. She had to admire Ichabod's restraint. He continued to stare at the painting. She could only guess at the turmoil going through him now.

Another thought crossed her mind. Abbie didn't believe she was going to ask this. "Did...did they find the body maybe? Is there a grave?" Abbie saw Ichabod flinch a bit.

"No, not that I know of. I think his body met the fate of so many others in war. Buried or abandoned on the battlefield. We only know of his death due to a soldier who witnessed his demise. That same soldier sent the letter to the Crane family. I can only imagine what the family thought, first dying so young, then knowing he was a traitor."

"Helen, thank you so much for your time. I - we - really appreciate it. " Abbie exchanged email addresses with Helen, who replied. "Any time, my dear." With a smile, she hurried off again, leaving Abbie alone with Ichabod. She moved close to his side.

"Are you okay?"

He avoided her question. "Today was a pleasant day. For the most part."

"The exhibits were really cool. Learned a lot."

"There was much to be learned today."

"Yes there was." She twined her fingers within his.

He sighed heavily. "Miss Mills. Let us return home. I think I have learned a little too much history today."

**Author's Note:**

> First time post for Sleepy Hollow fanfiction.  
> I'm just making up some Ichabod history but obviously not canon.
> 
> Please, any comments or reviews are greatly appreciated. Any willing Beta's welcome (not sure how it works!)
> 
> Cheers


End file.
